Catch My Disease
by oypoodle
Summary: HeroesOffice crossover. Pam held the phone in her bandaged hand and gently massaged her temples. She could barely handle what she had right now, let alone lists and cheerleaders and the end of the world.
1. Chapter 1

Okay. So, as you should know from the summary this is a Heroes/Office crossover. Yes, I know, unusual, but held together by the lovely NBC family. This begins a the end of the season finale with one major difference, Jim never asks Pam on a date and Karen comes back with Jim, angry.

Pam unbuttoned another button in her blouse and leaned back in her chair, letting out a defeated sigh. She picked up a file from her desk and began to fan herself half-heartedly, cocking an eyebrow as she noticed Angela looking at her curiously from over the cubicle.

"Yes, Angela?"

Angela ducked down quickly and Pam rolled her eyes putting down the file and resting her face in her hand idly. She felt another drop of sweat roll down her nose and she let her forehead fall to the desktop with a dull thud.

"Did you know that with certain cases of premenstrual syndrome, women experience intense heat flashes raising their body heat significantly?"

Pam kept her eyes closed against the cool surface. "Yes, Dwight, I am aware of that."

She could hear him awkwardly shuffle in front of her desk and she looked up at him, squinting in confusion. He leaned down a little, as if he held a deep dark secret.

"It must be really bad, huh?"

He was looking at her with wide eyes behind his obnoxiously large glasses. She gave him a blank stare.

"How come every time there is something wrong with me, you think it's my period?"

"I have experience in these matters."

"You have experience in premenstrual syndrome?"

"That's not what I-"

"Go back to your desk Dwight." She cut him off abruptly, turning in her chair to face her computer screen. She heard him let out an indignant sigh and retreat carefully back to his desk. She looked over at him and felt her eyes rest almost automatically on the back of Jim's neck.

Ever since him and Karen had gotten back from New York that morning, he hadn't even glanced in her direction. Even when she smiled at him when he came in and asked him how it went, all he muttered was a barely coherent 'fine'. Karen had let out a cynical chuckle and Jim shot her an exasperated look, his brow tightening and jaw clenching. Pam had given him a questioning look but he was no longer looking at her, he was already half way to his desk.

Pam stood up from her desk miserably and felt another wave of heat come over her. She placed her hands on either side of her keyboard and closed her eyes as she swayed uneasily.

She let out a breath and opened her eyes. Dwight opening his mouth to say something but she shot him a glare and his jaw snapped shut immediately. She gave a small smile and walked around her desk to the kitchen, trying in vain to cool herself off.

She opened the freezer door and closed her eyes, letting the cool air flow over her face. She let out a small sigh of contentment, not hearing the kitchen door open.

"You feeling okay?"

She jumped slightly, whipping her head around and looking at Jim who was awkwardly leaning on the counter by the door.

She met his eyes but he averted them away quickly. She shut the freezer door and took a step closer to him. He visibly tensed and she stopped, turning to face the counter, drumming her nails lightly on the toaster.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I think I just caught a bug."

"You look hot."

She turned her head to look at him, raising an amused eyebrow and his cheeks reddened suddenly.

"Oh! Uh, I meant that you look warm, not that you don't-"

"Jim, it's fine." She chuckled, turning back to the toaster. "I know what you meant."

He let out an exasperated sigh and looked up to the ceiling for a moment as if it held some secret to life. Pam continued to trace the edges of the toaster, waiting for him to say something. She was always the one starting these days. It was his turn.

"Karen's mad at me."

Pam swallowed hard. "Oh?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

She heard him shuffle and take his hands out of his pockets and cross and re-cross his arms. It alarmed her how she could see what he was doing when she wasn't even looking at him. But then again, it was Jim and she was Pam.

"I turned down the job in New York."

Her hand stopped abruptly on the toaster but she willed herself not to turn and look at him. She didn't want him to see the hope she knew was burning in her eyes.

"Oh?" She said again, this time fainter. She didn't see him smile slightly at her repetition.

"And she found the note you left for me."

She wiped the back of her hand against her brow as another heat wave hit her.

"She found it and asked me why you would leave me a note and what it meant and when I didn't answer she just-" He paused, gesturing at nothing in the air.

She resumed tracing the plastic coating of the toaster. "Well, I'm sorry I made you two fight."

"Are you?"

His question was quiet and calm but it caused a flare of anger to rise in the pit of her stomach.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"I mean, are you really sorry? First the beach and now this, it just seems like you are doing things just-"

"You think I would do that? To you?" She spoke with deliberate calm, turning to look at him. He took a half step back.

"I don't know, Pam, that's why I am asking-"

"You were always the one who told me to speak for myself, to say something, to not be satisfied with settling. In fact, I think you were standing in that exact spot when you yelled at me for not going after what I want. And now, now you think me finally gaining courage has to do with sabotaging your life? Yes Jim, I am an evil genius hell-bent on destroying you and Karen's relationship."

"I didn't, that's not what I'm saying."

"No, Jim. That is what you are saying. And I can't believe you would even think that. You have known me how many years and you think I am that shallow, that maniacal, to sink to that level?"

He looked uncomfortable, his hands back in his pockets, averting her piercing gaze. She was unaware of her hand clutching the metal toaster.

"We both changed when I left." He whispered.

She felt her heart plummet and a sharp pain shoot through her hand.

"Damn it!" She recoiled her hand from the toaster and cradled it to her chest, looking at the burn mark already forming. She looked at the toaster and then back to her hand.

Jim took a step closer to her, reaching out a hand. "Are you alright?"

She wrenched her wrist out of his grip and closed her hand. "I'm fine."

He looked at her, eyebrows knit in concern. "Pam, you burnt yourself."

"I'm fine. I wouldn't want my evil behavior rubbing off on you." She spat out. He looked at her carefully for a moment, the hurt clouding in his eyes. He nodded to himself, clenched his jaw, and backed out of the room.

Pam only felt a slight bit of guilt as she re-opened her hand and looked curiously at the burn. Her heat wave had completely passed and she was only slightly sticky from the sweat, not uncomfortable with the heat. She winced as she traced the outer edges of the burn with the forefinger of her opposite hand.

She looked curiously back up at the toaster that had burned her so suddenly. She felt her eyebrows knit in confusion when she saw that the toaster was unplugged. She reached out her unharmed hand and pulled the toaster over to her, looking inside and carefully feeling over the top for any residual heat. When she felt none, she carefully touched the top, metal part.

It was completely cool.


	2. Chapter 2

Oh yes, Pam is starting to figure things out. And Jim, well Jim is just Jim. Mohinder will be making his first appearance, damn straight. Thanks for the reviews guys.

-

"Dunder Mifflin, this is Pam." She switched the receiver from her bandaged hand to her un-bandaged one, picking at the edge of the raveling tape with her thumb. She could see Jim out of the corner of her eye, his head turned slightly, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

She bit her lip and closed her eyes, forcing herself not to look. They had been avoiding each other for three days now. She couldn't look at him without feeling a surge of anger and a gnawing feeling of guilt. She would follow him with her eyes when he would walk in the door and avert them quickly when he looked up to meet her gaze. He would stare at her openly in meetings while her head was bowed as she studiously took notes and as soon as she would even chance to look up, he would pretend to be lost in thought at a point above her head. It was like taking two steps forward and ten steps back.

She patched the client through to Dwight and hung up the phone, digging her palms into her eyes until she saw spots. A dull pain resided in her right hand where the burn had scorched her skin.

She was still baffled about the burn. How could the toaster have burned her when it was clearly unplugged? And why didn't she have a heat flash since then? She could have sworn that when she yelled at Jim she felt something-

No, that was ridiculous.

She jumped slightly as the phone rang on her desk and let her hands drop uselessly by her side. She mock glared at the phone and reached forward with her uninjured hand, tapping her nails on the counter lightly.

"Dunder Mifflin, this is Pam."

There was silence on the other end for a moment and then an Indian accent flooded into her ear.

"Pam? Pam Beesly?"

Pam squinted her eyes in confusion. "Yes, this is Pam Beesly, how can I help you?"

"My name is Mohinder Suresh and I have something, well, extraordinary to tell you."

Pam spun herself slightly in her chair, tangling the cord around her wrist. "What do you mean?"

She could hear shuffling on the other end and then a sigh. "Well, uh, it isn't exactly something I can tell you over the phone for specific reasons. Is there any way you could get to New York?"

"New York? For what?"

"Well, you see, that's the thing Ms. Beesly. You are a part of something great, remarkable even, and I would just like to assist you in any way I can."

Pam scratched her head with her pinky nail. "No, I don't think I feel comfortable with that. I don't even know you."

She could see Jim's back tense and knew he was listening. She turned her back to him and ducked her head down slightly.

She heard Mohinder sigh again. "I understand that. But just give me a chance."

"I'm sorry, but I don't even understand what you are talking about. What am I a part of? What are you helping with?"

He paused and she thought for a moment that he had hung up. "Have you-" He began hesitatingly. "Have you felt different lately?"

Pam looked down at the palm of her right hand. "Different how?" She whispered.

"Have you found that you can do things?"

"What sort of things?"

"This would be so much easier in person." He muttered more to himself than to her, his voice barely coherent over the shaky connection. "I mean," He began again, more confident. "I mean that there is a cheerleader, in the south, you see, she can heal herself. And there is a man here in New York who can fly. My father made a list, years ago, of remarkable people like this cheerleader and this man who had special capabilities. He made a list of names of people all over the country who are special."

Pam felt her heart beating rapidly in her chest. "And what do I have to do with this list?"

"Your name is on this list."

Pam paused and looked at the peeling paint surrounding the 'Teamwork' poster that hung at an odd angle behind her desk. She couldn't do this. She couldn't handle cheerleaders and lists and men who could fly in New York City. This wasn't real. This wasn't something that happened to people. This wasn't an x-men comic and she wasn't going to pretend to be a part of some crack Team America. Especially when she was told she had these so-called "powers" by a man with an Indian accent in New York probably hung over from the night before and drunk dialing for a good time. No, this wasn't something she could handle.

"Pam?"

"I'm sorry, I have to go."

"No, you don't understand! There are people who can harm-"

She hung up with a little more force than necessary, turning around quickly in her chair. She let out a little squeak of surprise when she saw Jim standing in front of her, lightly drumming his fingers on the edge of her desk.

He gave her a small apologetic glance that looked more like a wince than anything.

"Pam, listen, I just wanted to-"

She stood up quickly, smoothing down her skirt with sweaty palms. "Uh, I actually have to go. Can you tell Michael I wasn't feeling too good?"

She reached under her desk for her purse as Jim watched her with confused eyes. "Yeah, sure, but Pam-"

She stood up quickly and snagged the wrist of her shirt on the keyboard. She pulled it quickly away, causing her to stumble backward and hit into the coat rack. The rack fell to the ground in a loud crash and the entire office went silent. Pam hastily bent over and corrected her mess, hurriedly wiping away her fallen bangs from her face.

Jim had stooped down next to her and was helping her to gather some of the jackets that had fallen.

"Should you be driving? I can give you a ride."

He looked up at her with wide eyes but she couldn't make eye contact. She couldn't think right now, she couldn't breathe.

"I'm good."

She slid around him and hastened towards the door, leaving Jim behind her, holding several coats and a confused look.

-

Pam sat cross-legged in the middle of her family room floor, a glass of wine by her knee. She picked it up and took a gentle sip.

She couldn't get the words of that man out of her mind.

The thing was she had felt differently lately. When she had burned herself on the toaster, the moment before she had felt a sort of power shoot through her. It was like a shock of energy passing clear through, like a shot of lightening on a telephone pole. She had never felt anything like it before.

She set the wine glass down by her side and unfolded her hands in her lap. If this was true, if she could do what he said she could do, then, well-

She closed her eyes and let her hands balance open on her knees. She closed her eyes and cleared her mind. After several moments of feeling nothing she squinted one eye open and looked at her open hand. Nothing.

She let out a sigh and slouched her shoulders forward.

How had she felt that energy before? What had happened?

Her eyes widened slightly when she realized. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes again, except this time, she didn't keep her mind blank.

She forced herself to relive all the moments she had forced herself to forget over the past six months. She relived Jim's hands on her hips and his lips on hers. She relived a night filled with periwinkle dresses and broken boys. She relived a memory of a lonely girl, standing in a parking lot telling the man she loved she was glad he was back, glad he could be her friend. She relived lie after lie after lie. She relived the heartbreak and the sorrow.

When she felt the tears washing down her face and the sobs aching in her throat, she cracked open her eyes.

Her mouth formed a small 'oh' shape and she felt her hand shake.

In the palm of her hand, was a small ball of what looked to be fire, revolving slowly around.

Maybe she was more special than she had originally thought.


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks for the reviews. They are lovely. Be patient, things are starting to pick up, I promise. Next chapter I expect to be a little bit longer, with Pam going to New York and some of the Office members gaining some, ehm, interesting abilities. Oh goodness, you have no idea how excited I am for the next few chapters.

-

Pam's eyes widened at the small ball of fire revolving slowly in the palm of her bandaged hand. She flexed her fingers and the flames shot up a little but still remained controlled. She tilted her head to the side curiously and closed her eyes tightly, then opened them again.

Nope, the fire was still there.

She was shook out of her stupor by a loud banging on the door. She jumped and immediately closed her palm, extinguishing the flame that had floated there moments before.

She sat and stared at the door with wide eyes, her heart pounding. She stood up slowly as another frantic banging came from behind the solid wood.

"Ms. Beesly?" She heard a vaguely recognizable voice and peered through her peephole with caution. She was surprised to see a dark skinned man shuffling on his feet with a worried look on his face.

She bit her lip and opened the door, not realizing that there were still tears fresh on her cheeks and her hair was in a curly mass on the top of her head. The man took a half step back and looked at her with wide eyes.

"Ms. Beesly?"

"Yes?" She answered the question as if she were unsure herself. The man seemed to visibly deflate in front of her and he gave a small half smile.

"My name is Mohinder. I spoke with you earlier on the phone. It's just; you have to listen to me. There are people who can cause you harm because of your gift. You hung up on me earlier before I could-"

Pam reached forward quickly, grabbing Mohinder by the wrist and pulling him in. He stumbled across the doorstep, letting out a small noise of surprise. Pam shut the door quickly behind them and turned to face Mohinder, her back to the door, her eyes wide and frantic.

Mohinder looked at her carefully, apprehension shining in his bright brown eyes. "Did something happen? Was there an attack?"

Pam looked confused for a moment, her eyes glazing over and then she rapidly shook her head, averting her eyes to the wine glass on the floor. She rushed over to it and closed her eyes, tipping her head back and draining the rest in a single gulp. She half turned to Mohinder on the way to her small kitchen.

"Would you like a glass?"

"No, Pam, actually, I don't understand exactly what's going-"

Pam stuck her head out of the small doorway that lead to the kitchen. "I have powers. Like you said." She looked down at the floor for a moment, swallowed heavily and then whispered to herself. "I have powers."

She let out a small, humorless chuckle and retreated back into the kitchen. Mohinder raised an eyebrow and walked over to the opening where he watched her bustle around, trying to find an open wine bottle.

"I mean, come on. I'm a receptionist for God's sake."

"Save the receptionist, save the world."

Pam froze and looked over her shoulder at a smirking Mohinder, giving him an incredulous look.

"What does that even mean?"

Mohinder looked down, studying his fingers on the pale counter top. "You kind of had to be there." He muttered half-heartedly.

Pam went back to her search for a wine bottle and soon found one in the top back corner of one of her cabinets.

"I answer phones. I can't, I mean, this just isn't even probable. I know, I am going crazy. And you, and this list, and these flaming balls of fire are all some freaky hallucination."

She popped open the wine bottle and took a swig, closing her eyes and balancing herself with her free hand.

Mohinder leaned forward onto his elbows. Pam looked at his stance for a moment, slowly lowering her wine bottle and was instantly reminded of sharing secret jokes, his laugh in her ear, and his hands clutching hers.

"Flaming balls of fire?" He asked carefully.

She blinked her eyes and looked up at him, meeting his steady gaze. "Yeah, fire."

She wiggled her eyes obnoxiously and smiled slightly.

He pushed himself up off of his elbows and maneuvered himself around the counter so that he could face her. She looked at him warily, clutching her bottle to her chest protectively. He searched her eyes for a moment.

"I know this is terrifying for you. This is all happening so fast and it is so," He chuckled slightly and scratched the back of his head. "So unbelievable. I understand that. But you must know this is a gift. And there is no use in denying it because you will only hinder yourself. You can do remarkable things Ms. Beesly, you just have to let yourself."

She looked at him and felt her chin wobble. "But I'm not special."

He smiled and let out a small sigh. "Oh Ms. Beesly," He whispered. "I think the universe thinks a little differently than you."

She put down her wine bottle and wiped under her eyes, turning her back to Mohinder and reaching for a paper towel. She discreetly smoothed back her hair and turned back to face him. She cocked her head to the side and squinted at him.

"You drove four hours from New York?"

He smiled and leaned back against the countertop, bracing himself on either side. "Trust me, I've gone farther. I needed you to know what you could do. And I needed you to know the dangers. You didn't exactly give me time on the phone."

"Yeah," Pam scratched her forehead. "Sorry about that. This is all a bit overwhelming." She paused. "There are dangers?"

Mohinder opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by another set of frantic knocking at the door. Pam looked over his shoulder, her brow knit in confusion. Mohinder mirrored her look.

"Were you expecting someone?"

Pam stepped around him, biting her thumbnail. "I wasn't even expecting you. Hold on a moment."

She shuffled over the door and peered through the peephole. She saw a familiar set of shaggy hair and a pair of green eyes. She took a deep breath and swung open the door.

"Pam, oh thank God, I tried your phone like twenty times. Listen, I need to talk to you about-"

He was already stepping in but froze when he saw her appearance. Her eye make-up was smudged and her eyes were still puffy and red from crying. Her hair had managed to still fly away at awkward angles, even after her half-hearted attempt to smooth it down.

"What happened?"

He reached forward and tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear and she moved away at his touch, taking a step back. He let his hand fall by his side as she readjusted her sweater.

"Jim, this really isn't a good time."

"But Pam," His eyes were pleading. "We can't keep doing this. We can't keep moving around each other like neither of us exists. We need to talk about," He struggled to find the words. "Things."

"Jim, I'm telling you, now isn't a good time. I promise, we will talk, just not tonight."

"Pam-"

Mohinder stepped out of the kitchen just as Pam was reaching for the door to let Jim out. Jim completely froze, his face forming a surprised 'oh'. Mohinder looked at Jim's blank stare, and Pam's apprehensive glance, and took another careful step forward.

"Uh, hello?"

Jim's neck tensed and his face formed a stony glance. "Hey." He swallowed hard and turned to look at Pam. He nodded firmly. "Yeah, we will talk later."

He turned and opened the door, grandly walking out, his hands shoved in his pockets.

Pam half rolled her eyes and followed him. She jogged to catch up to his quick pace and put a steadying hand on his forearm. He stopped, looking at the ceiling.

"Jim-"

He snapped his neck down to meet her eyes. "So, all of that stuff you said? None of it was true, was it?"

She searched his eyes and glanced at his tense jaw. She let some of her own indignation melt away. "You know I wouldn't do that. Especially to you."

"How can you mean what you said when you have someone already? How can you judge me and Karen's relationship when you have your own? I'm not the only one trying to convince themselves of something that doesn't exist, Pam. You know what, it doesn't matter. You can do whatever you want." His jaw tensed again and he refused to meet her eyes.

"It isn't like that." She said carefully in a quiet, deliberate voice. "And I've never judged you for being with Karen."

He raised his eyebrow at her and she tried her best to bite back a smile but one forced itself out any way.

"I just don't understand what you want, Pam. And every time I think I know for sure, you say or do something to prove me otherwise. Maybe, maybe we were both wrong."

"Wrong about what?" She whispered.

He met her gaze and looked at her with intensity. She could see the months of pain, the months of wanting, the months of lies and hurt. She could see everything she felt intensified and highlighted with the green of his eyes. She held his gaze and felt tears build up in her own. He looked away, retreating to the elevator at the end of her hall.

"Jim-" She reached out her hand and gently grasped his forearm. He froze, his entire body tensing.

"Please, Pam." He looked down at the elevator floor. "I can't."

She backed out of the elevator and he met her eyes briefly as the doors closed on his face. She closed her eyes tightly and clenched her jaw.

She slowly walked back to her apartment and slid in, closing the door behind her. Mohinder was standing in the same position as she had left him. She kept her eyes trained on the floor in front of his feet.

"I think I'll come to New York with you."


	4. Chapter 4

Yeah, I love me some Mohinder. The reviews are fantastic and a significant portion of them make me laugh real hard. Thanks so much. You are all lovely.

-

Jim looked at reception when he came in, tucking his hands in his pockets and pulling his jacket tighter around him. He was absolutely freezing, in April. He clenched his jaw tightly against his chattering teeth and raised an eyebrow at the empty reception desk.

He slid into his chair and Dwight looked at him curiously.

"Are you sick? Because if you bring disease into this office-"

"It's fine Dwight, I'm not sick." He reached forward with a shaking hand and turned on his computer, quickly tucking his arm back into the folds on his jacket. Dwight squinted his eyes.

"Liar. I am ninety percent sure that you have a disease."

"Ninety percent? Why not a full blown hundred?" Jim muttered, his entire body wracking with another shiver.

"Because you have yet to have mucus expel from your nose."

Jim raised an eyebrow. "Mucus? Expel from my nose? Do you mean sneezing?"

Dwight nodded his affirmation and pulled a strange teapot looking object out of desk, tossing it over to Jim. Jim caught it in his hands and turned it over.

"What is this?"

"Fact. It is used to clean out your sinuses. You fill it with water, tilt your head to the side, and pour the water through your nose."

Jim looked up at Dwight, his eyes wide. "Have you used this?"

"Many times."

"Oh good Lord." Jim dropped the object on his desk and pushed back towards Dwight with one of his pencils. Dwight snatched it back and clutched it tightly to his chest.

"Fine, suffer."

"My nose isn't even clogged Dwight, I'm just co-co-cold." His teeth chattered, interrupting his sentence.

Dwight shook his head, turning slightly in his chair to return his precious nose teapot to its designated place. "You and Pam have no consideration, coming in to work sick."

Jim looked back up from his computer at Dwight. "Pam is sick? Is that why she isn't in?"

"No, Pam is not sick today. Pam was sick last week when she was having those hot flashes. Fact. Intense variation in body temperature is a key indicator of illness."

"So wait, Pam is not sick today?" He fingered his water bottle cap in his hand, twisting the bottle slowly around in contemplation.

Dwight gave Jim an incredulous look. "Do you listen at all? No, Pam is not sick. That is not why she is gone today."

"Then where is she?"

"I am not her mother Jim. I am just her supervisor. Which, if anything, is her father."

"You are not her supervisor." Jim quipped automatically.

"I am assistant regional manager."

"No, I do believe that is my job."

"Well, Michael made me his secret number two, you just don't know about it."

Jim looked back at his computer screen, disappointed to not find any new e-mails. "That is fascinating really. But you do know where Pam is, correct?"

Dwight hesitated. "Correct."

Jim remained silent, looking up at Dwight with raised eyebrows. Dwight said nothing.

"Are you going to tell me?"

"There is a price."

Jim let out an exasperated sigh, lightly squeezing the water bottle in his hand. "A price, seriously? I can just ask any one else in the office."

"No one knows but me. I heard it from Michael this morning, before anyone else had arrived. And Michael has a meeting all day so it seems you are stuck with me." Dwight smirked.

Jim narrowed his eyes at Dwight's smug expression. "What do you want?"

Dwight placed his hands on the desk and leaned his face closer to Jim's. Jim backed away slightly, a worried look on his face. "You must sign a paper that says you will never pull another prank on me again."

Jim's face contorted. "Who ever said I pulled a prank on you in the first place?"

Dwight's face reddened. "You know you did."

"I know I did, what?"

Dwight closed his eyes and let out a deep breath. Jim smirked.

"Just sign the paper, and I will tell you where Pam went."

Jim struggled for a moment, his face awkwardly stuck between confusion and decision. His hand drummed on the water bottle. He reached across and snatched the paper from Dwight's hand, anxiously scribbling his signature. He thrust the paper back into Dwight's hands.

"Tell me where Pam is."

Dwight let out a victorious smile. "She is in New York, for the rest of the week."

Jim squinted his eyes in confusion. "Is she coming back?"

"Michael didn't say. All he said was Pam was upset and she would be leaving for a week. That is all I know." With that, he stood up, tucked the paper in his pocket and made his way to the break room.

Jim leaned back in his chair, shivering again violently. Pam was upset? Did it have anything to do with their conversation last night? He sighed and shut his eyes. God, he could just kill himself. She was the only woman he ever wanted and every time they got close, he did something to screw it up.

Telling her he loved her, kissing her, giving her an ultimatum, leaving her in the apartment hallway, acting like an insane jerk and not even listening to her side of the situation when she begged him to stay, her hand on his.

He let out a frustrated growl and slammed his water bottle on his desk. He rubbed his hands over his eyes and opened them slowly.

"What the-"

He picked up his water bottle, looking at it carefully. What had been liquid mere moments before had suddenly turned into ice.

-

Pam followed Mohinder up an old set of stairs, stumbling slightly and reaching for balance on the handrail. Mohinder stopped, looked over his shoulder and extended his hand. She took it gratefully and he gave her a small smile.

"I seem to stumble on these stairs daily. One of the pitfalls of New York real estate. Not to worry, its only a little bit further."

Pam gave him a small smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. Mohinder had noticed the entire ride to New York she had been quiet, staring pensively out the car window. He figured it had something to do with the man who had showed up at her door the previous night. He had their muffled voices in a heated argument outside the door. He felt it was all somehow his fault.

"Ms. Beesly?"

"Mm." Pam shook her head out of her daze and looked over to Mohinder. "Yes, did you say something?"

He chuckled softly. "I was just wondering. You seem caught up in your thoughts. Is there anything you would like to talk about?"

Pam looked at her feet climbing the stairs and played with the necklace at her throat. Mohinder stopped her with his hand, gesturing towards a green door.

"I'm just thinking." She said airily.

He twisted his key in the lock and pushed open the door, allowing her to go before him. "It wouldn't happen to be about that man who showed up at your apartment, would it?"

Pam spun around and looked at him curiously. "No, no! Why would you say that?"

Mohinder chuckled again and held up his hands in mock surrender. "It was just a logical deduction." He shuffled over to his desk and pulled open a drawer, searching for a paper. "I am a scientist you know."

Pam gave a small smile as Mohinder continued to search.

"Yes, he is a scientist." A deep voice Pam didn't recognize came from a corner of the room. Pam watched as Mohinder froze, bent over his desk and a man emerged from the shadows. Pam backed up automatically, moving herself closer to Mohinder.

"Sylar." Mohinder muttered quietly. Pam looked across at the man and felt uneasiness twist in her stomach. The man was tall and foreboding. He had jet-black hair and eyes that twinkled with danger. She took another step back.

Sylar nodded slightly. "Mohinder." He turned his face towards Pam and gave a small smirk. "Ah, you must be Ms. Beesly." He held out his hand for her to shake but Mohinder stepped in front of her.

"Leave."

Sylar let his hand drop to his side and pouted slightly, clicking his tongue and shaking his head. He walked to the side, looking down at the floor and shoving his hands in his deep coat pockets.

"Oh, you know you can't make me. I just wanted to greet your new friend here. I hear she is very special."

"You aren't going to take her Sylar."

Sylar laughed at this, a deep throaty chuckle. Pam shivered, clutching to the back of Mohinder's shirt. The fact that Mohinder was frightened frightened her.

"Oh, like you can stop me if I tried. I seem to recall a certain man of Indian heritage pinned to the ceiling." He looked at Mohinder, raising his eyebrows, his face serious. "You couldn't stop me."

"But!" He brought his hands out of his pockets and clapped them together. "I didn't want you right away anyway, Pam. Well, actually I did, but Mohinder got to you first. No worries, on to plan B."

He spun around on his heel, smiling gleefully. Mohinder watched him with anxious eyes.

"You see, Mr. Suresh, you overlooked something when you went to Scranton to pick up Pam. I have, under good authority, the understanding that there are two 'gifted' people in Scranton. So, instead of getting both as I had originally hoped and acquiring both their powers, I can settle for one."

Pam squinted her eye behind Mohinder. "Two?"

Sylar averted his eyes from Mohinder to Pam. He smiled slightly. "Oh yes, don't tell me you didn't know. It is so obvious when someone gets his or her powers. The uneasiness, the lack of control. It is all so exciting."

"But who?" Pam could feel the uneasiness in her chest rising. She knew. She could feel it in her heart. But she needed confirmation. She couldn't assume until-

"I think it is James? Joe? John?"

Pam felt her heart plummet to her toes. "Jim?" She whispered.

"Exactly. Thank you." Sylar smiled gleefully at Pam as she covered her mouth with her hand. Mohinder looked at her with concern and then back to Sylar.

"Why are you telling us this? If you wanted him so bad, then why aren't you there now?"

Sylar shrugged his shoulders. "I have other means of acquiring what I need. Why travel when I can have it brought to me? Sort of like delivery pizza."

Pam let out a small sob, her eyes filling up with tears. Sylar sat down in Mohinder's desk chair, putting his feet up on the solid oak.

"We'll just wait."

-

Jim walked out to his car, pulling his keys from his pocket. Ever since this morning, he had been fine. No more blasts of cold, no more intense shivers. He was fine.

He shook his head slightly as he dropped his keys and bent down to pick them up. When he straightened up again, Dwight was no more than two feet in front of him.

"Jesus Christ!" Jim leaped back, dropping his keys again. He let out an agitated sigh and bent down to retrieve them. "You know Dwight, you really shouldn't sneak up on someone at night."

Dwight remained steadfastly looking at him, not blinking. Jim raised his eyebrows.

"What?"

"We have to go."

Jim pushed past Dwight, rolling his eyes. "Sorry Dwight, I can't go to Harry Potter club tonight, maybe next week."

Jim tried to open his door but Dwight slammed it shut.

"What the he-"

"I said we have to go."

"Okay, and I said no, so if you'll excuse me, I'm going to get in my car and leave."

Dwight forced Jim to look him in his eyes. Dwight's eyes flashed in the night and Jim's face immediately went blank.

"I said we are going."


	5. Chapter 5

This chapter: More Heroes appear, Peter and Hiro, I'm sure to the pleasure of all. Get excited guys, it's about to get interesting.

Peter shoved his hands deep in his pockets and smirked. Hiro was babbling on behind him with animated hand motions and interjections of Japanese about some ancient swordsman who exited over a thousand years ago.

Peter feigned interest as they climbed up another flight of stairs to Mohinder's flat, raising his eyebrows at the small man.

"And his sword, now my sword!" Hiro swung the ancient sword that was held on his back around so he could show it to Peter. Peter smiled appreciatively and nodded, continuing on up the stairs.

"That's really great Hiro, I'm glad you found the sword."

Hiro smiled happily and trudged behind Peter. After a moment, he could no longer remain silent. "So, why are we going to see Professor-man? He was good in the future."

Peter closed his eyes for a moment, willing patience, and scratched at the base of his neck. "We are going to see Mohinder because I need to know if he's found any others. I need to know if there's any one else I need to save."

"Save the cheerleader, save the world." Hiro supplied knowingly.

Peter nodded and moved up the last flight of stairs. "Exactly." He muttered. He was about to knock on Mohinder's door when an onslaught of thoughts invaded his mid. He closed his eyes tightly and clutched his head.

_-He isn't going to take her-_

_-Who is that? Why is Mohinder so-_

_-How did he get in? How didn't I-_

_-How did he know my na-_

_-Oh God, Sylar._

Peter blinked his eyes open and looked at the door with wide eyes. Hiro was about to speak but Peter firmly clapped his hand over his mouth and pulled him to the space next to the door clad in shadows.

He removed his hand slowly. "Sylar is in there. He has Mohinder. And Mohinder is with some girl. I don't recognize her voice but I think she may be special, like us."

Hiro's eyes widened. "Sy-"

Peter clapped his hand over Hiro's mouth again and motioned with his hand to be quiet. Peter leaned his head forward and carefully pressed his ear against the door.

_"I think it is James? Joe? John?"_

_"Jim?"_

_"Exactly. Thank you."_

_"Why are you telling us this? If you wanted him so bad, then why aren't you there now?"_

_"I have other means of acquiring what I need. Why travel when I can have it brought to me? Sort of like delivery pizza. We'll just wait."_

Peter leaned away from the door and turned back to Hiro.

"Sylar is having someone brought to him. Someone like us."

Hiro squinted his eyes in confusion. "How?"

"I'm not sure. But we have to get Mohinder and the girl out of there. And we can't let Sylar get the man he wants either. So we have to wait until the other person gets in there, and then we go in."

Hiro nodded his affirmation and then looked confused again. "Is there plan?"

Peter sighed and leaned his head back against the wall. "I'm working on it."

-

Pam sat in a straight back wooden chair, twisting her hands in her lap anxiously, watching Sylar drum his hands on the desktop lightly. She bit her lip and looked down, then looked up again.

"What are you going to do with him?" She asked in a shaky voice. Sylar looked up, as if he were surprised she was addressing him. He gave a smile.

"Cut open his head. Take out his brain. Get his power. You know," He winked. "The usual."

Pam's vision clouded with tears and she looked down as they overwhelmed her. Her shoulders began to shake uncontrollably and she felt the familiar heat beginning to flow through her body. She tensed. She couldn't let this happen, not now.

She forced other thoughts to flow through her brain. She thought of grilled cheese and his smile with coke cans. But each individual thought was interrupted by an imagined image of Jim lying on the floor, his eyes lifeless and cold, blood pooling around his head.

She opened her eyes just as a burst of flames shot from her hand and hit the leg of the desk Sylar was sitting at. He jumped up quickly and looked down at the smoldering wood. He waved his hand and it abruptly went out. He looked up to see Mohinder looking with wide eyes at where the fire had been and Pam looking with wide eyes at him.

"I may just have to revise my decision on only gaining one power." He raised his hand and pointed a finger directly at her. She shut her eyes tightly as a ringing began to fill the room. She could barely hear Mohinder's muffled yell through the ringing. It was around in, in her, driving her crazy. A sharp pain etched itself in her forehead and she cried out.

"I'm here master." Sylar immediately dropped his hand and Pam fell forward, breathing heavily. She felt Mohinder's hand on her shoulder and she looked up. His deep brown amber eyes were piercing hers. He wiped his hand across her forehead above her right eye and pulled away with crimson staining his fingers.

"How many times have I told you, do not call me master. I am not some Sith lord." Came Sylar's disgruntled voice from across the room. Pam looked up and felt her eyes widen.

There was Dwight, with Jim standing in front of him. But Jim didn't seem like Jim at all. His eyes were empty and his face emotionless. And Dwight? What the hell was Dwight doing with-

And then it hit her. Pam let out a small gasp of surprise. Dwight was Sylar's way. Dwight was his way of acquiring people. Dwight brought Jim to Sylar so Jim could be killed.

Sylar smiled in appreciation. "Undo him please."

Dwight nodded and stepped in front of Jim again, looking him in the eye. Pam saw his eyes flash a bright white and then Jim's head snapped back. He looked at Dwight.

"Seriously man? What the-"

He stopped as he saw Sylar standing next to Dwight. His face contorted in confusion and he looked around the room. He took in the crowded study with open eyes and then his head turned towards Pam.

He took in the blood dripping down the side of her face and her tear covered cheeks. He took in Mohinder crouched by her side, his body half in front of hers, a sad attempt at protection.

"Pam?" He mustered in a half whisper.

He took a step towards her but Dwight's arm stopped him. Jim turned and looked at him.

"Let go of me."

Dwight just tightened his grip. Jim's eyes turned hard.

"Pam's hurt."

Dwight's eyes didn't leave Jim's. Jim looked past Dwight to Sylar who was looking at him with a smug smile on his face.

"Could you go help her please, she's bleeding."

Sylar let out a loud laugh soon joined by Dwight's forced one. Sylar stopped abruptly, giving Dwight a stern glance. Dwight reddened slightly and looked down.

Jim attempted to maneuver out of Dwight's grip again but Dwight held tighter.

"Dwight seriously, Pam is hurt, let me go."

"You can't tell me what to do, Jim. Not here. Here, I am assistant dark lord."

"Assistant to the dark lord." Pam managed from the side of the room, leaning up slightly. Dwight cast her a furious glance as Sylar let out a sigh behind him.

"I am not a dark lord. How many times must I say this to you?"

"Yes, master."

Sylar's face contorted and for a minute it looked as if he were going to rip off Dwight's head, take out his brain, and laugh manically. But he merely let out a small sigh and pushed him out of the way and faced Jim.

Jim looked completely bewildered, his eyes wide in confusion and jaw slack.

"What is going on?"

"You have a gift."

"I have a what?"

"A gift. A power. You can do things. Good God, why do I even both in explanations when I can just-"

He lifted his hand up to Jim's forehead but Pam scrambled up from her position on the other side of the room and hastily placed herself in front of Jim. She stumbled slightly and Jim immediately put his hands on her hips to keep her up.

"Wait." She said breathlessly. "Before they got here, you were going to take me. And you said you could settle with just one power. So do it. Take mine. Let him go."

Mohinder was about to stand up himself when he felt a strong arm on his shoulder, pushing him down. He was about to open his mouth but he felt a hand snake around and cover his mouth. A recognizable voice leaned close to his ear.

"Don't move. Don't say a word. Me and Hiro are right behind you. Get to those two and make contact, and Hiro will teleport us out of here."

Sylar looked at Pam situated in front of Jim, Jim's hand on her waist and face full of confusion.

"I don't understand. What are you guys talking about? Pam, what is he taking from you?"

Sylar looked Pam straight in the eye and it took all her courage to remain eye contact. He smiled slowly and raised his hand.

"As you wish."

Pam closed her eyes tightly as the ringing filled her ears again. She could feel Jim's hands tighten on her waist and his muffled yells this time, instead of Mohinder's. And then she felt a dull pain in her side, a moment of weightlessness, and then a sharp pain in her knees.

She opened her eyes and looked down at an asphalt ground, her head spinning.

"Wha-"

She fell forward, her palms on the ground, her forehead breaking into a sweat. Her breathing began to come in pants. She fell to the side and rolled over so that she was on her back. Immediately, Jim's face was over hers, his eyebrows knit in concern. And then Mohinder's swam in her vision and then a strange man she never saw before and a Japanese man with spiked up hair.

She closed her eyes as heat wave after heat wave plagued her body.

"She's losing control." She heard the strange man say.

"What, what does that mean? What's going on?" Came Jim's frantic voice.

"Lady, calm down." Short, barely coherent sentences by a high pitched accented voice.

"Pam, you need to relax. Check your emotions. We are safe now. Just calm down."

"She isn't calming down, she's getting worse. See how her face is growing in color. What's her power?"

"Fire."

"Wait! Just wait! What's going on? Why is she-"

"She needs to cool down. Jim, use your power."

Jim looked up from Pam's unconscious form and looked across her body at Mohinder.

"What? What power?"

His head was spinning. He was sitting in a parking lot of some unknown town with three people he didn't know and the unconscious form of Pam while mere moments ago he was standing in a boarded up, cluttered study in front of another strange man and Dwight who had somehow managed to get him there without him knowing. And now he had a power?

Mohinder closed his eyes in frustration. He had no time. She had no time. "In my apartment. When you first saw Pam and she was bleeding, I noticed your hands. They turned blue for a mere fraction of time and the room went suddenly cold for the briefest of moments. Powers relate directly to emotions. Now, I know you have a connection with Pam from what I've seen of you two. If she is fire, and you are ice, you can cool her down. Use your power."

Peter looked up at Jim, his hands cupping the side of Pam's face. "She's burning up. You have to do it now."

"I don't understand. Do what? I don't have a power!"

Mohinder reached forward and took Jim's hands and placed them where Peter's hands were moment's before, cupping her face.

"Close your eyes." He commanded. "And save her life."


	6. Chapter 6

Jim closed his eyes and cupped Pam's face, feeling the heat penetrate the palms of his hands. Her labored breathing was ringing through his ears. He tried to focus on the feeling of power rushing through his body but nothing was happening. He could feel his rapid heart beat in his chest.

His eyes snapped open. "Why isn't it working?" He looked up with wide eyes at Mohinder. "Why can't I use my power?"

Pam let out another whimper and squirmed slightly. Jim looked back down at her and gently ran his thumb across her cheek. Mohinder glanced at Peter and Peter tilted his head to the side, backing away slightly. Mohinder nodded and stepped backwards, giving them some room.

Jim bent his head down closer to Pam's, almost to the point where their foreheads were touching. "I'm sorry." He whispered hoarsely. "I didn't mean to, uh, I never thought that-" He swallowed hard and closed his eyes. "Everything between us since I came back, it's been wrong. Most of that is my fault I know, and I'm sorry. You know that I always, I mean I, I always will feel-" He stopped abruptly and let out a deep breath. "I'm just sorry."

He felt a sudden rush of blood in his arms and opened his eyes. They widened when he saw a blue glow emitting from his palms. He ran his thumb across her skin again and she suddenly opened her eyes, sitting up abruptly, knocking Jim back slightly. She let out ragged gasps of breath and tears immediately filled her eyes.

Jim reached forward and lightly touched her hand. She jumped and looked at him in surprise. His eyes softened and when she met his gaze, her face crumbled and she began to sob uncontrollably into her hands. Jim reached forward and pulled her into him, his large arms wrapping around her protectively. She clutched to the front of his shirt, fisting the fabric in her tight hands, and cried, her chest heaving and shoulder's shaking.

Mohinder watched the couple on the asphalt and turned his head slightly to Peter.

"Where should we take them? There isn't anywhere safe."

Peter scratched at his chin and ran an anxious hand through his hair. "We can take them to the mansion. We have enough room and no one is there but Claire and Nathan. They will be safe there."

Hiro let out a jubilant smile next to Peter. "Fly man!"

Peter let out a small sigh and closed his eyes while Mohinder let out an appreciative chuckle.

-

Jim lay on his back in the darkened room, watching shadows from outside play across the ceiling. He was in his boxers and undershirt for he didn't bring any pajamas. This wasn't exactly a planned trip.

He let out a sigh and threw his arm over his eyes. This had been the most insane day of his life. He had been kidnapped, watched Pam throw herself in front of his body so he wouldn't get hurt, told he had powers, and actually used them to save Pam.

Pam. He let out another sigh and rubbed his temples. As soon as she had calmed down enough in the parking lot to breathe normally she had pulled away from Jim muttering 'sorry' and swiping a hand under her nose. He had tried to tell her there was nothing to be sorry for, that she was alive and he had thought he had almost lost her and it made him feel like he was falling off of-

But the cabs to take them somewhere else had shown up and she had slipped her hand out of his and she was climbing in and closing the door and he was left with Peter and Hiro in another car and he felt like someone had just punched him in the stomach.

Peter had looked at him sideways. "You saved her. That means something."

He had let out a bitter chuckle. "Yeah, she seems thrilled about it."

He had turned his face to the window, cutting off any more conversation and Peter let out a small sigh, rubbing the back of his neck.

They arrived at the house and Jim shuffled in behind Peter and Hiro, his hands shoved deep in his pockets and face angled downwards. A blonde answered the door before they were even on the steps, her eyebrows knit in concern.

"Mohinder just came with a woman, she's covered in blood and her hands won't stop shaking."

Peter nodded slightly towards Jim with his head and put his finger to his lips quickly. The blonde nodded and allowed them to enter. Peter took her to the side and whispered something in her ear before she nodded again and went to the couch where Jim saw Pam sitting, almost lifeless.

"That's my niece, Claire. She's going to take Pam upstairs and get her cleaned up. Are you hungry? I can get you something."

Jim was too busy following Pam with his eyes to even notice Peter was talking to him. After Claire and Pam had disappeared behind a door, Jim had shook his head and looked at Peter again.

"What? Sorry."

Peter smiled slightly and nodded towards another door. "Come on, I'll get you something to eat."

Jim hadn't seen Pam the rest of the evening. Claire had come back in with a bloody washcloth and rinsed it off in the sink, muttering something to Peter and quickly glancing at Jim but there was nothing else. Claire had told him Pam decided to go to bed and if he wanted, she could show him his room.

His face had fallen considerably when he realized he wouldn't get to talk to Pam and he nodded, following Claire up several flights of stairs to an empty room. She had opened it and given him a small smile.

Before she closed it, she looked at him carefully and took a drawing breath as if she were about to speak. Jim turned and looked at her, raising an eyebrow.

Claire clasped her hands nervously. "It's going to take her some time. She was attacked and she thought he had killed you. It is going to take her a little bit of time."

Jim had stared at her with wide eyes and then coughed, looking down at the ground, nodding.

And now he lay on top of his bed sheets, thinking about everything and nothing and he could feel his heart beating manically in his chest. He let out a groan and slammed his palms into his eyes until he saw black spots.

He almost didn't hear his door open but when a sheet of light fell across his bed, he sat up abruptly.

"Pam?" He muttered almost incoherently into the dark.

She stood at his door, twisting the oversized white shirt she was wearing, obviously borrowed from Peter. Her hair was in a messy bun on the top of her head and she was wearing striped pajama pants that he could only guess were from Claire.

He sat up and ran a hand through his hair.

"Hey." She said quietly. He could hear the slight warble in her voice and leaned forward.

"Hey." He replied.

"Can I-" Even in the dark he could see her shuffling back and forth, uncomfortable. "Can I sit down?"

He slid on the bed and made room for her on the edge. She walked forward slowly and sat down carefully, placing her hands in her lap. She sat stone still as if she were afraid if she moved, he would go sprinting away.

"Pam, I-"

"I thought you were dead." She whispered quietly.

He looked at her in shock; his heart beat reverberating through his ears. She was looking down in her lap, twisting her fingers around each other.

"After Hiro moved us to the parking lot, I immediately thought you had died. I mean, I don't even know why because I could still hear your voice and I had stood in front of you and I was the one who got cut but-"

Jim turned her head gently with his hand so he could see the cut on her forehead. He traced it lightly with his fingertips and she let out a sigh, closing her eyes.

"I thought you were dead." She repeated, opening her eyes and looking at him. He let his hand drift to her cheek and he rubbed his thumb carefully across her skin, wiping away a stray tear that had fallen.

"And I, I just couldn't-" She stood up quickly, backing away from Jim. "It's my fault you were even dragged into this."

Jim squinted at Pam in the dark. "What?"

She put her hand over her eyes and rubbed franticly. "If I had stayed at Scranton, if I didn't believe Mohinder, if I just stayed there none of this would have happened."

Jim stood up and gently grasped her shoulders. "If all of this is true then you leaving had absolutely nothing to do with anything. Pam, the only thing that would have changed if you didn't leave for New York is that Dwight would have taken both of us, not just me."

"But-"

"Pam, this isn't your fault."

She looked at him with wide eyes and he could see the tears welling up again. "I thought I was going to have to watch you die." She whispered and her chin began to tremble.

"Well, you stopped that from happening, didn't you. When you jumped in front of me, I had no idea what was going on." He smiled slightly. "You were quite valiant. Saving my life and all."

She chuckled a little and looked down, wiping a hand under her eyes. "Well, Claire said you saved my life too. In the parking lot."

"I guess we are even then."

She looked at him smiling for a moment and then looked down. "I guess so." She whispered.

They stood in silence for a moment before Pam took a deep breath and looked around the room. "I should get to bed."

She moved towards the door but Jim lightly grabbed her wrist. She looked at him carefully. He ran his thumb across the skin on the underside of her wrist. "I, us, why don't you just stay in here?"

She raised her eyebrows and he held up his hands. "I'll keep my hands to myself, I promise."

She chuckled slightly and he dropped his hands, a goofy grin spread across his features.

"Well, my room does freak me out a little."

"See," He supplied quietly. "No freak outs in here."

"But Karen-"

Jim's entire body went rigid and he looked down at the floor. Pam floundered for something to say. That's not how she wanted-

"Me and Karen broke up." Jim said abruptly.

"Oh." Pam said quietly.

"Yeah." He whispered. Pam suddenly was overcome with a large yawn and she let out a small squeaking noise. Jim smiled and nodded towards the bed.

"Come on, you're looking a bit ragged there Beesly. Let's get you to bed."

She smiled appreciatively and climbed into the right side of the bed. Jim was careful not to touch any part of her when he climbed into the left side. He stretched out his limbs as Pam lay on her stomach. It was only mere moments before her breathing had regulated and she was in a deep sleep. He let his eyes drift over her face for a moment, taking in the way her ivory skin seemed to glow in the moonlight, the way her lips parted slightly in sleep, and the way her eyelids fluttered in dream. The cut on her forehead seemed even more drastic in the pale moonlight. He traced it again lightly with his fingertips and she winced in her sleep.

He ran his thumb across her cheek in a gentle caress and her face calmed and she let out a deep sigh. He turned his body to face her, their noses almost touching and let his eyes drift shut. He felt her head rest against his chest and body curl up against his as he finally let sleep overtake him.


	7. Chapter 7

Sylar takes what he wants. He kind of wants Pam's power. Uh oh for Pam.

-

Claire swung into the kitchen, smacking the door into Peter's hands causing him to drop the breakfast he was holding.

"Jesus!" Peter went to his knees, gathering the toast that had slid across the floor, a scowl on his face. He never was a morning person. Claire paid no attention to Peter's state of annoyance.

"Pam is gone." She stated breathlessly.

"You know Claire, for someone who is invincible, you sure are accident prone." He continued sweeping up the crumbs with his hands, keeping his eyes on the white linoleum.

Claire made an exasperated face over Peter's head and gestured wildly with her hands. "I'm sorry, maybe you didn't hear me. Pam isn't in her bedroom."

Peter stood up, letting out a deep sigh and poking his discarded toast with a forlorn finger.

"It was perfectly toasted." He mumbled sadly. Claire reached forward and took the toast out of his hand, slamming it onto the counter. She grabbed Peter by the chin and forced him to look at her. His eyes were wide in surprise.

"What?"

"Pam. Is. Not. In. Her. Room."

"Okay." He looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to go on. She dropped her hand and squinted in confusion.

"Why aren't you worried about this?"

Peter smiled slightly as he deposited his beloved toast in the trash. "Did you check Jim's room?"

Claire's brow furrowed more in confusion. "Why would she be in Jim's room?"

Peter raised his eyebrows at Claire. Claire let out a dismissive sigh.

"I swear, all men think about is sex."

Peter held his hands up in mock surrender. "Hey, who said anything about sex?" He bent down to retrieve another loaf of bread. "Just go check his room before you go all Justice League on me, alright?"

"Fine." She muttered. She slid off the barstool she was balancing on and out the door. It was early and the bedroom hallway was quiet. The sunlight had just begun to pour through the far window and a golden tint covered everything. Claire carefully tiptoed down the hall and stopped at Jim's door.

She carefully eased it open, wincing slightly when the hinges emitted a creak, and stuck her head inside. She let out a small sigh of relief when she saw Pam carefully tucked in Jim's arms. She let her eyes wander over the couple in curiosity and gently bit her bottom lip.

Pam was tucked under Jim's chin, both her hands over his heart, clutching the thin material of his t-shirt. Jim had one arm slung over Pam's waist, the other tucked under her body, holding her close.

Claire smiled at the pair before quietly closing the door and moving back down to the kitchen. She walked back in and slid onto the barstool as Peter delicately buttered his toast.

"Was she in there?"

"Yes."

"Were they having sex?"

"No."

"You were right Uncle Peter, I will never, ever doubt you again."

Claire smirked at Peter's poor imitation of her voice as he slid in the stool across from her, munching happily on his toast.

"You need to work on your Odessa accent."

"But the tone? Was the tone good?" He asked through a mouth full of breadcrumbs.

Claire chuckled and leaned forward on her elbows. "The tone was perfect."

-

Jim was standing in front of Pam quietly, his face sad, his hands solemnly clasped in front of him. "Pam." He said simply.

She smiled slowly at him and walked forward, but she didn't seem to get any closer.

Her smile faltered slightly. "Jim, what's-"

She felt a strange prickling sensation and soon Sylar was standing in front of her, between her and Jim. He smiled knowingly at her. She tried to step back but she couldn't move, couldn't feel her legs.

"Jim, help."

Jim just looked at her sadly, his hands unclasping and dropping to his sides limply. Sylar let his eyes linger over her face.

"You have a choice to make." He said carefully. "You or him."

Pam struggled not to let the tears overflow and forced her body to move. "Wha- what are you talking about?"

"You or him." Sylar stated simply and then pointed his finger towards her forehead again. She closed her eyes tightly as the ringing started in her ears, driving out every other thought, replacing it with morbid, uncontrollable fear.

She sat up abruptly, her breathing coming in erratic bursts. She opened her eyes and saw that she was in a pale yellow room. Peter's house. She let out a sigh of relief and felt her body relax. She massaged her eyes with her right hand and felt something tug on her bed shirt.

She turned around to see a groggy Jim gently tugging on her. She smiled at his chaotic hair and weary expression. She allowed him to pull her down, as if they always did this, and she lay next to him, not quite meeting his gaze.

"You had a bad dream." He mumbled, his eyes closing again.

"Yes." She whispered. He opened his eyes at the slight tremor in her voice and reached out his hand gently to touch her bare arm. She winced at the contact and jumped, sitting up again. His face grew confused and he sat up as well, scratching at the back of his head.

Pam closed her eyes. You or Him. You or Him. You or Him. With every repetition of the thought, her heart gave another painful thud deep in her chest.

Jim looked at her back and the way she maneuvered her body so it was furthest away from his on the small bed. He looked up at the ceiling and tossed his legs out from under the blankets so he was sitting on the edge of the bed, his back facing her. He rubbed his jaw and felt the rough stubble from the loss of routine.

"Why can't you just-"

Pam froze, opening her eyes and looking at the plain bedspread. His voice was so small, so distant. Weary.

"Why can't you just let me in?"

Pam chanced a look over her shoulder and saw his head resting in his palms, his shoulders hunched over the rest of his body. Her face softened and she reached out a hand, touching his back softly. He leaned into her touch, lifting up his head and turning to meet her eyes. He grasped her hand in his and intertwined their fingers.

She kept her eyes steadfastly on their fingers and the way her pale skin contrasted with his tanned complexion, the way her hand was so small in his, the way his thumb carefully ran over the scar on her index finger, almost as if he were memorizing it.

"It isn't going to stop." She said quietly, her voice shaking.

"What isn't?"

"People looking for us. Trying to come after us. It won't ever stop." She took a deep breath and watched as his thumb ran back over her skin. "I don't want you to get hurt."

"I don't want me to get hurt either." She could hear the smile in his voice but still refused to look up. "But how does that have anything to do with us? Whether we are together or not, we both still have these abilities."

"People could take advantage of our relationship." She offered weakly.

"And you don't think they would even if we weren't? Pam, why are you searching for a reason not-"

"I'm not going to-" She stopped abruptly, taking her hand back out of his grasp. She slid out of bed, keeping her eyes on the hardwood floor and shuffled to the door.

She could hear him hastily trying to untangle himself from the sheets behind her. "Pam, wait, just-"

Pam turned quickly at the door and finally met his gaze. He looked confused, sad, his eyes large saucers and his jaw slack.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and forced her eyes to be hard. "I can't." What meant to be a finalized voice came out as a hoarse, weak warble. The ghost of the words floated across Jim's face and he closed his mouth, his jaw tightening. She had almost forgotten those were the same words she whispered to him on a warm May night with pastel dresses and wool sweaters. But the same look in his eyes reminded her. The same feeling of her falling from a cliff reminded her. She could never forget devastation.

"You can."

She swallowed and looked down, closing her eyes tightly to stop the tears. She knew what she had to say. She knew how she had to hurt. It was the only way. The only way to keep him safe.

"I won't."

She backed out of the door and shut it quickly behind her before the words had even sunk into him. She moved before the words even washed into his features, causing his eyes to cloud and forcing him to sit down carefully on the edge of the bed in shock. His hands were shaking mere seconds after the door shut carefully behind her, the twisting of his stomach after her footsteps had disappeared down the hall.

She slid into another room and locked the door behind her, shutting her eyes tightly and slamming her hands into her eyes. She pressed her back into the door and slid down slowly, the rough wood leaving abrasions on her back where Jim's hands lingered mere moments ago. Her sobs came in silent hiccups, her tears in shining rivets on her face.

After her breathing had evened into the raspy draw she seemed plagued with recently, she stood up on shay legs and noticed the burn marks on the floor where her hands had been. She looked at the black hand prints with detached eyes and turned towards the window where a fire escape was.

She knew what she had to do.

She climbed out of the window silently and down the fire escape to the alleyway next to the apartment. She bit her lip and walked down the narrow walkway, not knowing where she was going but knowing he would find her. It was instinct more than intellect. She was no more than thirty feet from the open window and drawn fire escape when she felt the familiar prickling.

She turned her head half to the side and saw his tall figure, leaning against the brick wall, his arms cross over his chest, happily munching on a piece of toast.

She turned to him fully and looked him dead in the eye, not faltering in the least. "It's me, not him. You take me and you let him go. You leave him alone forever."

Sylar swallowed the remainder of his toast and brushed his hands on his black jacket. He pushed himself off of the wall and walked towards Pam. "Why, how very noble of you."

When his hands clasped on her upper arm, she resisted. "What are you going to do to me?"

"We are going to go back to my place and make smores and share our life stories with each other." He said dryly. When he didn't get a response, he smiled slightly. "I think you know the answer to that question, Pam."

She blinked back the tears as his grip on her tightened.

She closed her eyes and let out a deep breath. "Just make it quick." She whispered.

"Oh," He said, manic delight in his voice. "I have every intention of making this as drawn out-" He leaned close to her ear, whispering. "As possible."


	8. Chapter 8

This chapter gets a little darker, obviously, because Sylar has Pam. Look forward to a trip back to Scranton, a seriously pissed off Jim, and that crazy kid Sylar. Thanks for the reviews, I appreciate it. I know this is a hard to swallow story and I really love you all for even giving it a chance. I know I probably wouldn't. So thanks.

-

"Regretting your decision yet?" He tightened the bonds on her wrists behind her back and she winced.

"Are these really necessary? I came to you. Remember?"

Sylar stood up, moving around so he was in front of her. He moved a chair over with a flick of his wrist and sat down, folding his hands neatly in his lap. "One isn't naturally inclined to remain seated and still during physical pain."

Pam paled slightly, moving her wrists back and forth against the tight bonds. "You are seriously going to do that? You are going to torture me, even though I came to you willingly?"

Sylar quirked an eyebrow. "Is that a serious question? Pam, I'm evil, remember? And anyway-" He stood op and went to a far corner of the room, tapping his hand lightly on the wall while looking out the window on the busy Manhattan streets below them.

"I have a purpose for you, besides what you think."

Pam knit her eyebrows in confusion. "What is that?"

"Bait."

"Excuse me?"

Sylar turned and reclaimed his seat across from her, leaning forward on his elbows.

"Bait. As in, you are. As soon as the justice league finds out I have you, all will come running to the rescue. It will make my job infinitely easier."

Pam felt her eyes fill with moisture. "But you said-" She swallowed heavily. "We have a deal."

"No, you assumed we had a deal when you willingly gave yourself up. I don't remember ever agreeing to terms Ms. Beesly."

Pam struggled violently in her bonds. Sylar reached forward and stilled her with his hands, his eyes darkening. "You can fight all you want, but you aren't going to get out of here. When they come, which make no doubt they will, I'm going to make you watch as I kill. Every. Single. One."

She felt the hot angry tears running down her cheeks. Sylar considered her for a moment before reaching forward and tucking a piece of stray hair behind her ear. She winced at his touch and tried to lean away.

"While we wait, I think I have other-" He gripped her face forcefully with one hand and her eyes snapped open. "Uses for you."

-

Jim shuffled into the kitchen, changed back into his clothes from yesterday, biting back a huge yawn. He covered his mouth with a fist and slid into the barstool Peter had vacated moments ago, and looked at Claire with tired eyes.

"Good morning." She offered with a smile.

He nodded at her and reached for an empty coffee cop, tilting his head at her in question.

"Of course. Help yourself." He let out a grateful sigh and poured himself a cup.

"Milk and sugar are-"

He ignored her, taking a swig of the black coffee. Claire stopped her sentence abruptly, giving him a curious glance.

"Are you alright?"

Jim looked up from the swirling black liquid and up at the wide blue eyes. He gave her a terse smile. "Fine." His voice cracked, betraying his emotions.

Claire clasped and unclasped her hands. She never was good with making small talk with strangers, ironic considering she was a cheerleader. Weren't they supposed to be peppy or happy all the time? She wished Peter would just get back down here.

"So you and Pam," Claire began. That was one thing she knew they could talk about. Nice neutral territory. "How long have you two been together?"

Jim looked up quickly, almost knocking over his coffee in the process. "We aren't, uh, me and Pam-" A dark look crossed his face as he looked back down, twisting his fingers around the cup's handle. "We aren't together."

Claire felt her cheeks redden. "Oh, I just thought that with everything-" She let her sentence die off.

Jim took another quiet sip of his coffee. "No, Pam has made it clear that isn't what she wants. Repeatedly."

Claire's forehead knit in confusion as she thought back to earlier in the morning and the way in which they embraced each other. They looked so completely, totally enamored with each other. How could she possibly misinterpret that?

She watched as Jim ran a hand through his hair and closed his eyes, letting out a deep sigh. She could see a slight shake in his fingers, a hoarseness in his voice. She knew that look, that pain.

Her eyes softened. "Listen, Jim. I know I'm only seventeen but I underst-"

She was cut off with Peter busting in through the kitchen doors, much like she had done earlier. Both Jim and Claire turned abruptly in their seats and regarded him with curious glances.

"Pam is gone." He said, a slight tremor in his voice.

Jim stood up, shoving his hands in his pockets, his face contorting. Claire smiled slightly.

"Hilarious Peter, but I really don't think that's-"

"No, I'm serious." He abruptly cut her off. He turned his attention towards Jim. "How long ago did she leave your room?"

Jim looked slightly surprised that Peter knew him and Pam had slept together but answered all the same. "Twenty minutes, thirty?" His voice was gravelly.

Peter grabbed his coat off the counter and turned to go out the door but Claire stood up, stopping him.

"Peter, what's going on?"

Peter looked above her head to Jim who was watching the pair closely. Peter opened and closed his mouth several times. He finally looked at Jim.

"I was just upstairs and I saw that you had left your room and I heard you down here with Claire but I didn't hear Pam, so I checked the room we had given her last night. I knocked but there was no answer. When I opened it, there were burn marks on the floor and the window was open."

Jim blinked his eyes several times, slowly. "What?"

"I'm assuming Pam got out the window."

"But, why would Pam le-" Jim stopped abruptly, the color washing from his face.

Claire noticed the abrupt change in Jim's facial features. "What?" She asked quietly, feeling her rapid heartbeat in her chest. They couldn't lose another. It was happening too fast, all of this.

Jim scratched at the back of his neck. "This morning, Pam was saying how it was never going to stop, us being hunted. And how people would use our relationship as a vulnerability. I think-"

"You think she would willingly give herself up to save you." Peter completed Jim's statement.

Jim nodded dumbly, another wave of emotion passing over his face. Claire could clearly see his hands shaking this time. She looked at Peter and saw their breath mingling in the air in front of them. Peter quirked an eyebrow and shivered slightly as the room dropped in temperature.

Jim felt like he should be exploding or screaming or something. He shouldn't have let her out of sight. He should have followed her, he knew what she was saying wasn't real. He knew it and still he believed it. He closed his eyes tightly and clenched his hands. He couldn't lose her. He couldn't just-

"How do we find her?" He asked in a shaking voice.

Peter shook his head, his eyes sad as Claire let out another shiver next to him. Peter handed her his coat without even looking at her. She pulled it on gratefully. "We have been trying to locate Sylar for months. We haven't found anything. He moves too fast."

Jim blinked his eyes open, the fear replaced with an angry determination, his green eyes glinting in the sunlight pooling in from the windows. "Dwight."

"What?" Claire asked as Jim swept in between her and Peter. She gave Peter a wary look. He shook his head slightly and followed Jim out to the foyer.

"Dwight will know where he is." Jim answered as he shrugged on his jacket. "I'm going to Scranton."

"We are going with you." Peter added. When Jim moved to open his mouth Claire shook her head and picked up her bag from the floor.

"There is no argument Jim. We know who we are dealing with. You, unfortunately, do not. You can't get her back without us."

Jim stopped for a moment, looking at Claire, his eyes wide, the anger suddenly gone. His face was open with hopeful vulnerability. "Do you think we are going to get her back?"

She didn't dare look at Peter, trying to meet her gaze behind Jim's lanky frame. She didn't need to remember that when Sylar set his mind on something, there was no stopping him.

She smiled softly at Jim. "Yeah, we are going to get her back."

-

The ride to Scranton was in complete silence. Peter was driving after him and Jim switched on the side of a bridge outside of Manhattan. Jim's hands were shaking so bad he could barely steer straight.

Jim sat in the passenger seat, his face blank and staring out the front windshield. He had made several attempts to put on the radio, but every time music would flood through the car he would abruptly smack his hand over the button and turn it off. Claire could see his knees jittering up and down from the back seat.

"How dangerous is this Dwight? I only got a glimpse of him in Mohinder's apartment."

Jim blinked and looked over at Peter, as if he had forgotten he was in the car with him still. "Oh," Jim started, turning his head and looking back out the window. "He isn't dangerous. Or at least I thought he wasn't. Turn here."

The car had barely stopped before Jim unfolded his body from the passenger seat and started striding towards the buildings glass doors. Peter hastily turned off the car and followed, Claire coming up in a light jog behind them.

Claire looked up at Jim's face in the elevator, his eyes dark and jaw tense. She could see he wasn't a man who usually was overcome with anger, his face didn't show it. The emotion looked foreign on his face, the creases in his forehead new.

The elevator doors opened with a small ding and Jim strode out abruptly again, disappearing around a corner. Peter and Claire jogged to follow again and saw Jim just as he disappeared behind a white door.

When they entered the office, Jim was two steps away from Dwight, standing stock-still. Dwight hadn't even noticed Jim looking at him until Peter and Claire spilled into the office.

"What? Who are you? Why are you in this of-" He stopped when he saw Jim looking at him.

"Jim."

Jim said nothing. He just looked at Dwight, his eyes dark. "Where is she?"

Dwight tilted his chin up, indignant. "Who?"

Jim closed the distance that separated the pair of them and grabbed Dwight's arm, pulling him towards the break room.

Dwight let out a sound of protest. "Hey! This is a new shirt."

"I'm sure Wal-Mart carries more in your size, Dwight." Jim muttered as he threw Dwight in ahead of him and slammed the door behind them with a resounding thud.

"Dude," Peter and Claire turned and looked at a large man with a balding head standing behind his desk, looking at the closed door. "Jim was pissed."

A door opened to Claire's immediate left and Michael strode out. "What's all the noise? Can anyone just-"

He stopped abruptly when he saw Claire, looking her up and down swiftly.

"Hey!" He said, a smile on his face. "It isn't my birthday, who got me the strip- gram? You guys are too great."

He looked at Claire expectantly, his hands clasped happily in front of him. Claire's eyes grew wide and she turned to look at Peter who was looking at Michael with his mouth open. Michael looked over at Peter.

"Sorry man, but I'm not your type. Why don't you try Oscar over there?"

Peter shut his mouth and swallowed, taking Claire by the elbow and pulling her backwards, towards reception.

-

Jim flung Dwight from his grip when the door shut and Dwight stumbled against the wall. Jim sat down calmly on the edge of a table and looked at Dwight with his eyebrows raised.

"Where is Sylar keeping her?"

Dwight rubbed his arm and stood up straight, his face terse. "I do not know."

"Dwight-"

"No, I won't be turned to the dark side."

Jim froze, his face contorting in confusion. "What, exactly, do you think you are doing right now?"

Dwight stood up straight and put his hands by his side, tilting his head up in perfect military precision. "I am serving the good, I will not give into the evil. I am using my power to help serve and protect."

Jim sat in contemplative silence. He tapped his pointer finger on his lips and looked down at his feet. "So that's why you are helping a manic genius kill innocent people?"

Dwight's shoulder collapsed out of his military position and he looked at Jim. "What are you talking about?"

"Sylar. The one you call the dark lord?"

"Oh, that's just a cover. He really is good. He pretends he is bad so the other bad people are drawn to him and he can kill them, protecting society."

Jim nodded. "Of course. So that's why he took Pam hostage."

"Pam's evil." Dwight stated as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Pam is evil? Are we talking about the same Pam here? Pam. Pam who sits in the break room and eats mixed berries yogurt everyday."

"You are evil too."

Jim quirked an eyebrow. "Am I really?"

"Do I really need to list the reasons Jim?" Dwight asked in smug confidence. Jim stood up and met Dwight's eye. Dwight backed up slightly.

"Listen Dwight. I am not evil. Neither is Pam. I didn't even know I had powers until a couple days ago. And if me and Pam were evil, don't you think you would be able to tell without some strange guy in New York telling you?"

Dwight's face faltered a little and his gaze shifted. "Well, you-"

"You saw what Sylar was doing to Pam when we got to that apartment. He was hurting her, Dwight. He was hurting her. Good guys don't do that. And now he has her. He could be hurting her right now."

Jim took another step forward, effectively blocking Dwight against the wall. Dwight crossed his arms over his chest. "You are just saying things. Things so I change sides."

"Damn it Dwight! This isn't a game!" Jim's fist collided the tabletop and a wave of cold passed through the room, small splinters of ice forming around the area where Jim's fist had hit. "He has her and he is going to kill her unless I find him. Do you want Pam to die? She isn't evil. If you cant believe I'm not, than believe that. She's pure and good and if it were you taken, you know she would find you."

Dwight's eyes were wide behind his framed glasses as he looked at Jim's face. His mouth opened and closed silently before he straightened up, pushing Jim away from him and brushing past him.

"Lower Manhattan, in the back of an alley is a door hidden by old orange crates from a deli near by. If you kick them out of the way, you can get in."

Jim felt his chest deflate. "Thank you."

Dwight made a strange face and put his hands on his hips. "I still think you are evil."

Jim smirked. "Of course."


End file.
